


Laughter

by wildpath3102



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: :D, F/M, Fluff, Stark - Freeform, baratheon - Freeform, forge - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7615774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildpath3102/pseuds/wildpath3102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plagued by nightmares of war, Arya leaves the security of the Red Keep to go to a particular forge in the middle of the night. Written for Day 5 of Arya x Gendry Week, "Laughter". Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughter

Day 5 - Laughter

Arya Stark didn't laugh, not for a long time, at least. Not until she found Gendry again. Before that, she didn't have much of a reason to smile either. But when she reunited with that thick headed, stubborn bastard boy, her world became a lot brighter. Laughing seemed a lot more appropriate.

She laughed after pulling a prank on the council members. She laughed at her siblings' jokes, particularly Jon's. She laughed with Sansa over the stumbling of her sister's suitors. She laughed most of all when she was with Gendry.

Those were the best moments, she thought, when she forgot about everything they had been through. That war had seared into their memories horrors that would always lurk in the depths of their mind, battles fought together and alone.

Arya woke with a start. The frigid night washed over her in an instant. Her window was open. Even though she had experienced the winter in the north only weeks prior, the southern wind nipped at the tips of her feet and nose, despite the layers covering her body. She had a sudden desire for warmth, a desire to surround herself with something, someone…

The forge. Gendry would be there still; the night was young, and he worked hours longer and harder than anybody she knew. Arya supposed it came with being the best blacksmith in Westeros. Smiling at the thought, she donned a cloak and slipped into the darkened corridor, disappearing into the night by means of a window that spilled into the courtyard below.

Evading the guards was easy. Their routines never changed, and the current guard was about to switch with fresh eyes; the ones currently on duty were exhausted, and they did not have the sharpness and awareness of a new guard.

Gendry's forge was a ten-minute walk away from the castle and an even shorter ride. This made for frequent visits when Arya resided in King's Landing. Her business brought her to the capital every several moons. Oftentimes, she was summoned to take on a group of boys too young to take the black, or even girls, and whip them into respectable fighting shape. For the most part, the queen Daenerys Targaryen then received them and sent them off as squires to her lords. Or, Arya would be instructed directly by the lords themselves to take the young criminals off of their lands and undergo the same training.

It was a good business - Arya's skills did not go to waste, minor problems were eliminated and turned into good workforces, and she got to see Gendry.

As she neared the doorway, it occurred to her that it would have made more sense to remain in the keep and light a fire, or go to the kitchens, or even make her way to Sansa's room… But she was already ducking her head in, receiving a shot of fiery air in the face, searching for the familiar shape bent over the flames, pounding away at the steel. Her eyes skimmed the room and rested on the sweaty man she called "stupid" and "friend". Gendry heard her footsteps and looked up. The fierce determination in his eyes turned to happiness, a slight smile on his face.

"Arya! What're you doing here?" he asked, setting his hammer on the bench and moving to her side. She opened her mouth but had no answer for him. What was she doing there? "No matter," Gendry was saying, holding onto her arm gently. "You're here now. Come, I've got something to show you."

Still wordless, Arya trailed after him, groping for an answer. Gendry took her to the back of the forge where a shelf was set out, filled with a variety of brooches and pins. Gendry beamed proudly. "What do you think?"

Rows upon rows lay the pins, each with a different sigil for all the houses, great and small. She reached out and delicately picked up the Stark direwolf.

"It's late," was all she said, staring at the pin intensely. Gendry laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Arya looked down at the pin again and guided her thumb over the smooth metal. The light of the unattended fire reflected in the eyes of the direwolf, illuminating them so it took on the gleam of a real one.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Arya set it down. "They all are." She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you." His breath was warm on the nape of her neck. An overwhelming hunger to be held in his arms - oh, those strong, strong arms - suddenly overtook her.

She began to say his name, to see how it felt as it rolled off her tongue, but he was already speaking: "Did you see this one? I made only one." A slice of a golden brown pie, steam rising from the crust, was etched into the gray background of the ping Gendry pointed to. The smile that stretched across her lips was almost painful. The moment vanished as Arya felt a powerful laugh rise in her chest. "Hot Pie!" she wheezed. "A pin of a hot pie… for Hot Pie!"

The laugh grew as she recalled a certain fight where she had cried "Winterfell!" and Hot Pie "Hot Pie!". And suddenly he was laughing, too. Laughing simply because she was laughing. Arya giggled harder, and so did Gendry until they were both roaring and fighting back tears. It was in that moment she decided she loved his laugh.

"That's quite amusing. I'm sure he'll love it," Arya finally said, once they calmed down. "I wouldn't have expected you to do something like that."

"Nor would I."

"I'm glad you did; I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

Gendry paused for a moment, hesitating for what seemed to be an eternity. "I hope we'll have many more times like that together." Gray eyes met blue, Stark and Baratheon, wolf and bull.

Arya tilted her head slightly; a strange sensation was settling in her stomach. Almost "like butterflies", she had heard Sans say once. The description matched the sensation, and Arya knew what she was feeling in her gut.

"I'd never miss one of those moments," she felt herself saying. A small smile fell upon her lips. Gendry cupped her face with the palm of his left hand, and the world fell away so it was just the two of them. Arya and Gendry. Gendry and Arya.

I'll be there for every laughing session we have," Gendry added with a grin. Arya laughed and looked down at her boots. A turmoil of nerves and ecstasy flooded her as Gendry tilted her chin up to his face.

Her body moved towards him, as fluid as water. She felt as if she were in the middle of a raging storm on the sea, a sudden unplanned motion that pushed her forward. I could be the sand and he the waves, Arya thought before the ocean water crashed ashore, his lips on hers.

It was sweet. She had found the warmth she so dearly craved. The warmth of his lips and his arms around her. The warmth of the smile that came when they broke apart. The warmth of the relieved laugh that ensued from both of them.

His laugh had never changed, Arya thought, years later. His laugh was a part of her home, their home. Ever since their first kiss in the forge, they laughed together and frequently. Happiness washed over Arya as she heard her son's giggle for the first time and Gendry's voice shouting gleefully, "Arya! Ned's laughing!"

 

I know the pun on "hot pie" was pushing it a bit, but I figured it was enough to at least get a giggle out of Arya, which consequently turned into a good, hearty laugh. :) Hope you guys enjoyed!


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